


the devil on your back

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf)



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Depression, Gen, the darkest timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's bones have turned to lead in the night, and he can't move and he can't smile and he can't think. The future stretches on and on in front of him, hopeless and impossible.</p><p>Jack is broken, and he doesn't know how to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the devil on your back

**Author's Note:**

> Makes very little sense without this: http://thewondersmith.tumblr.com/post/55963511373/were-still-here
> 
> I'm sorry, I think I've got all of this out of my system now. Maybe.

"Come on lazybones, it's time for breakfast."  
  
"Mrpghh." Jack rolls over and blinks, peering up at Eugene, who is pulling on his shirt.  
  
"We've got the morning shift at the radio today, remember? We'll have to be quick." The mention of the radio fills Jack’s stomach with dread and bile rises at the back of his throat. He can't move. "Come on," Eugene says, poking him with a toe. "Get a move on."  
  
"I'll come in a minute," Jack says finally, and Eugene shakes his head and leaves.   
  
Jack can’t explain it, not really. It’s partly that he doesn't feel capable of getting up -- like his bones have turned to lead in the night, and despite a full night’s sleep he’s even more exhausted than he had been when he went to bed. The worst part is the terror that overwhelms him when he thinks about getting up, though. He would have to leave the tent and face other people. He'd have to face the zombie moans, currently just out of earshot. He'd have to be happy, because that's what Jack Holden is! Happy! Enough puns to make Janine crack a smile and Eugene just stare at him with fond exasperation! Jack Holden, booster of morale!  
  
He doesn't have any morale himself, though.   
  
When Eugene comes back fifteen minutes later and Jack still hasn't moved, he gets frustrated. At this rate, they really will be late starting the broadcast, and Phil would never let them hear the end of it. He’d probably use it as leverage to cut down their hours. "Jack! Get your ass out of bed, we need to go. Don't blame me if you miss breakfast. There's even a ration of cinnamon to go with the porridge if you flirt with Francesca." No movement. "Jack!" He flinches at Eugene’s sharp tone and curls in on himself a little, and it's when Eugene laboriously sits down next to his head that he starts to cry.   
  
Neither of them speak for a long while. Jack cries as quietly as he can and Eugene sits, stroking his hair. He doesn't even leave to deal with the fact that they were meant to be on air ten minutes ago. Shit. Jack Holden, letting everyone down because he's so useless he can't get out of bed.   
  
He runs out of tears eventually. He's still just as lost and hopeless and afraid as he was when he started crying, but he doesn't have the energy to do it any longer. When it becomes clear he's not going to offer up any explanation, Eugene kisses his head and says he'll be back, he's just going to contact Phil and Zoe. He leaves. Jack is alone.   
  
While Eugene’s gone Jack wonders what he's saying — what excuse is he giving? Jack doesn't even have an excuse, he's just too weak-willed to get out of bed. Not an excuse at all. But Jack finds he doesn't really care what excuse Eugene is using, not really. It's very difficult to care.   
  
Eugene gets back into bed, settling in beside Jack and running a thumb over the pulse point on his wrist over and over. "What was that?" he asks, and Jack opens his mouth to reply but he can't find the words. His brain is foggy and the back of his throat aches.   
  
"I can't do it," he says eventually, in a whisper so soft he can barely hear himself. "I can't do it, I can't...I can't."  
  
"You can, Jack, we talked about this yesterday." He'd had an embarrassing breakdown on air, of all places. And they had talked about it, and it had made him feel better at the time, but now just remembering the words makes him feel sick. Getting through it means continuing. It means waking up, hearing zombies, eating rations, his friends dying, constant alert, constant fear. And it just stretches on and on with no end in sight, and the sheer endlessness of the future is paralysing.   
  
"I can't, though,” Jack repeats, shifting his body away from Eugene. "I can't - if I get out of bed I have a duty to be Jack Holden, funny guy to your straight man, laughing the zombies away. I can't - I can't even fulfil the stupid role I have in this township. I'm bloody useless and the future is bloody useless and I just- I just-" he stopped, at a loss as to how to continue. The silence grows and becomes a third person in the tent. It’s heavy on Jack’s chest, making it hard to breathe.  
  
"You're not useless, Jack. You're amazing. The doc’s always talking about how important morale is — you're a huge part of why the townships still going. And I love you. That's not useless." Jack translates it to _why isn't my love enough of a purpose for you_ which just compounds the cold heaviness in the pit of his stomach. Eugene deserves someone who would find his love enough. Not Jack. Jack is broken.   
  
He can't respond.   
  
“Would you like some food?” Eugene says once the silence is again a palpable _thing_ , another reminder of what Jack is failing to do. “I can get something for you. Maybe that would make you feel better.”  
  
Jack shakes his head. He’s not hungry, he’s not anything, he’s a bit nauseous, maybe. But mostly nothing.  
  
“What do we do, then? What would make you better?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Jack says, swallowing the lump in his throat that makes him feel like crying again. “I don’t know.”  
  
Later, Eugene suggests getting Maxine. Jack shakes his head, saying he doesn’t need Maxine, he’ll be fine, he doesn’t want Maxine to see him like this — he’s not like this, he just…needs more sleep. He’ll be fine tomorrow. When Jack refuses dinner, Eugene gets Maxine anyway, and she murmurs that she’s surprised it didn’t happen earlier.   
  
Jack is broken, and it’s just one more thing they can’t fix after the apocalypse.


End file.
